sometimes i cry myself to sleep at night

100% honest mom thought.

I’m probably gonna get hate for even posting this, but hey, whatever. I’m a damn good mother and I know that. But I’m just gonna say it… Sometimes, I don’t want to ‘mom’. Sometimes I just don’t. Some days I wake up to a whiny crying infant, at 6 am, when the day before she slept until 9 am, and I want to rip my hair out. Sometimes, I just don’t want to sit at home all day with a baby. Sometimes, I just wanna go to the movies with my fiancé, or go to a fun party with friends on a friday night, or god forbid, I want to actually drink MORE than 1 glass of wine on occasion, and actually FEEL a buzz. Sometimes I want to go to bed before midnight, and sleep until 10 am the next day, and make myself a big beautiful breakfast and eat it…. WARM! Wow, what a thought. Some days, I just dont. Want. To. Mom! So shoot me, call me what you want, but that’s how I feel some days! But guess what? That little baby is my world, and I’m gonna keep mom-ing until the day I die! Even if it’s not my favorite thing every second of every day!


“I’ve just been, uh…thinking…a lot lately.”
“About what?”
“I don’t know…everything. Can I tell you something?”
“I like guys, and I like girls. Pretty much anyone in between. That’s probably not news to you. But you wanna know how I first found that out?”
“I dunno, do I?”
“It was my parents’ fault. Well…mostly my dad’s. He was always too hard on me. They sent me to bootcamp when I was 13. To discipline the bad out of me. My first kiss was with a boy there…Charlie. He was the only thing that made that place tolerable…he made it worse, too, though. Not him, but…the bullying, getting beat up for it…getting called every possible slur, every dehumanizing thing you can imagine. I called home most nights crying…cried myself to sleep. Always crying.”
“Sometimes I still think that was the worst time in my life…but then…”
“Hey, uh…where’s Fiona? Is she here?”
“No, she spends the weekends at my mother’s…why?”
“You wanna take a drive? Let’s go somewhere. Anywhere.”

Sometimes at night you just feel it so very deep in your bones, the need to hug and comfort that sad child. You would do anything to get the chance to cure that wounded soul, to take them away with you, forever, saving them from all those monsters, giving them the happy life every child deserves.

And it’s terrible knowing that you can’t do anything like that.

You can just watch that innocent soul being torn apart over and over again, unreachable yet so close, because you feel that pain and suddenly that child is you, and you’re crying, and that’s the only thing you always knew how to do.

—  You can’t change the past.

I’m still trying to convince myself that im a better person when I’m high, but the truth always finds a way back to me
And when the drugs are gone, and the day is done I can still feel the sadness lingering.

I wanted a life of substance but I always get lost in the substances.

Shaking, crying, aching for another line
Wanting the rush, the dope, just one more time
Dry mouth, pounding heart, weight loss, just losing another part
Of my soul
Sleepless nights, dizzying heights of high
Dangerous decisions, damaged minds.

And coming down feels a lot like when you left
Sweating, bawling, temper short
Puking, tremors, a sickness I cant thwart
Sleeping 20 hours, trying to heal
Sometimes i just can’t deal

And I can lie to myself until the very end
Until my final moments come and go around the bend
But the truth is,
I’ll just never make amends.

Emotional Abuse Is Still Abuse

I’ve made some posts about this before, but as I’ve just recently been put in a position where I was forced to relive some of my emotional abuse, I decided it was time to make a new post about a factor of emotional abuse I have not previously talked about. And before I start, I would like to make it quite clear that I am in no way discrediting any other type of abuse. I am just speaking from the heart about my personal experience with the type of abuse I have experienced.

Emotional abuse is often made out to be solely in the victim’s mind, because emotional evidence is apparently not the same as physical evidence. You can’t see the scars left by emotional abusers because they are emotional. I can’t pull my sleeve up to reveal bruises or cuts. But I sometimes wake up in the middle of the night from a nightmare and cry myself back to sleep because of the mental scars that my emotional abuser gave to me.
For years I tried to get out of my abusive situation, but as I was a child and had no physical evidence of my abuse, few people believed me. And those few that did couldn’t do anything about it.
Once I hit 10, though, and started getting extreme panic attacks to the point of not being able to leave the house, people started to take notice. It took me years of therapy and coping techniques to even start to get better. And even though I’m doing much better now, after years of trying to cope, I still get panic attacks and depression and cry in the middle of the night when there’s no one to hear me. Which brings me to my main point: Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.

It wasn’t until very recently that I identified my symptoms as C-PTSD. I always knew that some of it must be related to my abuse, but I blamed most of it on genetics, as my family has a history of mental illness, and I did have the anxiety disorder when I was very young before the abuse affected me too much. But recently I was put in a situation where I was forced to face my abusive past, and I had a panic attack so bad I could’ve been ten again. Not to mention the flashbacks and depression that came with it. I talked to someone I’m very close to about it and she related the episode to a fictional character with PTSD.
After that conversation I did some research on PTSD, and I realized that so many of the things I’d learned to live with, so many of the things I’d convinced myself were just in my mind, were really symptoms of (complex) post traumatic stress, which was something I had convinced myself I couldn’t have because I was not physically abused.
Physical abuse is a horrible, horrible thing, I am in no way discrediting this. But emotional abuse is just as valid, and can cause some of the same mental and emotional problems, and in our society I feel that that is something that is often overlooked. We teach victims of mental and emotional abuse that their experiences are invalid because they can’t show you a scar that’s on their body to prove that they’re in pain.
So if anyone ever opens up to you and tells you that they have been abused, in any way shape or form, don’t question them, don’t make them show you proof, or explain their experiences if they don’t want to. Because if they opened up to you and told you that they were abused, that means that they trust you. So just listen to them, and believe them. Because chances are that’s something they rarely, if ever, get.


I don’t know if mine have anything to do with the Force, but nightmares have always been pretty common for me. I didn’t stop begging my parents to let me sleep in their room till I was eight. I used to go to bed crying in terror every night till I was ten. Looking back, I really have to admire Mom and Dad’s patience.

Obviously, I’m old enough to take care of myself now, and the nightmares have become far less frequent. But sometimes, I still wake up in the dark, feeling so panicked and disturbed and helpless that it’s all I can do to keep myself from breaking down and shouting for help. Of course I don’t, though… If I let myself act like a child in front of my parents, I can’t expect them to treat me like an adult.

You’ve moved on and you’re sleeping next to someone else but I think I’ll love you till the end of time. I’ll be forever waiting. God, I used to cry myself to sleep every night. And it’s better now, but that doesn’t mean it’s ok. I understand I have to move on and try to love someone else- I just don’t want to have to actually do it.
—  Excerpt from a book I will never write #196 // I see you around with her sometimes and I feel sick (s.f)
I can’t stop thinking about you. I know I hurt myself whilst doing this and I should probably quit but I can’t, it’s the only way to keep you with me, my love, I just can’t lose you. I keep listening to the songs that make me think of you and cry myself to sleep. I look at pictures of that one night when everything was so perfect and it makes me sick to my stomach knowing I’ll probably never be with you again. Sometimes I see someone that has the same nose or the same lips as you and it makes my heart sink to my chest because you’re no where near. I thought this was gonna be just a silly crush, I thought I had everything under control but lately I’ve been scratching my wrists again and my mom is worried that things will go downhill again (goddamn, I am worried too). I keep seeing you in my dreams and they mostly start off so nice and warm, but somehow i always end up yelling your name and crying like a fool. My god, I miss you.
—  My love, I wish you were mine

In group dynamics, there’s something psychologists call “savior behavior.

Often one person in the group feels like they need to save the others from a threat or an emotion that he or she believes is dangerous.
Sometimes those people are children of parents with drug or alcohol problems. […]
They want to help, that’s a good thing.
But sometimes when we try to help one person, another person gets hurt.
Sometimes that person’s ourselves, sometimes it’s someone else.

It still amazes me every time we change into our pajamas and get ready for bed every single night, together. I remember crying myself to sleep drowning in tears of missing you and aching for you to be next to me, and now, the distance is really over. It’s actually over. I still have to pinch myself sometimes. The little things still amaze me, like when we run errands after work together, or wake up on Saturday morning together and make breakfast and snuggle so peacefully. We waited so long for this, and now it’s actually our life. It was all worth it for this beautiful life we have together. You are always worth it.